The Stacks will Collapse
by Roxburry Black
Summary: Sweden wakes in a box and discovers that the person who opened his crate thinks he's a simple Hetalia Unit. Quickly he realizes that there's much more the the sweet faced American who woke him up. He needs explanation for somethings, like why there are hundreds of book in her house and why she doesn't take off her gloves and why she is completely alone despite being underage.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Hetalia

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Sweden wasn't sure why he woke up in a crate but he did. He also wasn't exactly sure why he woke up to Caramelldensen playing rather loudly but he did. He blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. From some of the light filtering through the cracks he saw a latch, which he lifted. The entire front panel crashed to the ground to reveal a rather astonished teenage girl on the other side.

She was rather short with short, jaggedly cut blond hair and wide hazel eyes blinking from behind half moon spectacles. Tied around her wrist was a black ribbon. In black gloved hands was a rather thick manual with the name Berwald, visible past her fingers.

"Erm, you can get out of the box you know that right?" Adjusting his glasses Sweden took a quick step into a rather large living room. An opening lead off into what looked like the dining room while a set of stairs led to the second floor. The room was clean but the furniture was mismatched and insulted Sweden to the very core of his interior home furnishing self. She sounded American, he decided, examining the girl. She wore jeans and a plain blue t-shirt with white socks. The girl wasn't small and delicate like he might have expected. Her shoulders were rounder and hips wider than he would have expected. She didn't seem to have a very large stomach but had round cheeks and a sweet gentle expression that was slightly marred by a little frown.

"Are you alright, can I get you something to drink?"

He hummed in response and swept his gaze around, there was no TV but a large bookcase overflowing with hardbacks and paperbacks. Several stacks of books reached precariously for the ceiling and leaned against the worn armchairs. The whole place smelled like incense.

"Mr. Sweden." He flicked his gaze back to her, "Are you alright?"

_I'm confused,_ he thought but nodded brusquely.

"Okay then, come into the kitchen and I'll give you something to eat."

_Definitely American,_ he followed her as she skittered from the room. He was right with his first observation that there was a dining room, in battered china cabinet cups and dishes were stacked neatly, also mismatched. More books were stacked here also, from what he could tell at a glance they were on every subject imaginable. From Chinese characters to Romanian folklore The kitchen was clean and instead of novels stacked around there were dozens of cookbooks on all different types of cuisines. It was a clean kitchen, neat but a tad shabby. Much like the rest of the house and smelled faintly of lemons.

"How do you feel about having some tea? I've got a bunch of different kinds but let me serve you up some of my favorites." Again he nodded while she continued to speak, "my names Andrea Cooks but you can call me Andy, every one does. Right now you're in my hometown Graytown, Indiana. Right now it's about," she pulled an old fashioned pocket watch from her pocket, "about 6:34 so we'll just have an early dinner. " It was now Sweden noticed several pots bubbling away at a commercial stove with six different stovetops. "I hope you like pea soup, it's a Thursday must." He nodded, still confused as hell.

The last thing Sweden could remember was being jumped by an obscene amount of government men and some one that looked suspiciously like America. Andy avoided his eyes as she prepared the tea, settling the manual in her hand on the table. She didn't seem very afraid of him but definitely nervous.

"Wh're is Indiana?"

"What?" Andrea stopped with a wooden spoon halfway to her mouth.

" 'S it a n'w nat'n?" He rumbled noticing she still hadn't taken off her gloves.

"No," she put the spoon down an cocked her head, "It's a state. An American one more specifically. Welcome to the U.S." Nodding Sweden closed his eyes, still mightily confused. Finland would be missing him. Denmark would not have anyone to get in fist fights with. Finland would be missing him. Who would do all of his paperwork? Finland would be missing him. His thoughts trailed off as Andrea set a large bowl filled with steaming soup in front of him. "Enjoy, I hope you like it. "

"Takk." He mumbled before picking up the spoon. The first bite was wonderfully pleasant. It was good soup, not as good as Finland's but still pretty good. Needless to say he enjoyed it.

"I know its early but I've got to go to bed. I've got school in the morning and then work until midnight so I usually turn in early on Thursdays. If you don't mind I'll show you to your room." Finishing off the last few spoonfulls of his soup Sweden stood up, easily towering over her by a good foot or two.

In the living room he saw the massive crate he'd woken up in. Up the stairs there were several doors.

"That one in the back on the right is my room and the one opposite is the bathroom. The middle left is the master bedroom and the one next to mine is where you'll be sleeping," they navigated past boxes of books until they reached a door painted red with splashes of white. "Welcome to the Book Room.," she swung the door open and he blinked in surprise. The only thing he could see were stacks and stacks of boxes of books. They reached the ceiling and teetered dangerously.

How was he supposed to sleep on stacks of books?

"Come on," Andrea disappeared into the books and he saw a small path he hadn't noticed before. It was a narrow path, his broad shoulders kept brushing the dusty boxes until after one turn they stopped. Crammed into a corner was a twin sized bed. A patchwork quilt covered the entire thing with a soft blue pillow at the head. There was a small cleared space so the bed's occupant could move about in but it was only about four feet of space because books covered the door.

"I hope you don't mind. It might be a bit cramped but its comfortable and there's a chest you can store your stuff in," he noticed a large sea chest shoved at the foot of the bed with faded gold lettering spelling out 'Cooks'. Sweden nodded, suddenly getting the feeling something was very wrong with the entire situation.

"I don't have a TV but as you've probably seen there are a lot of books so feel free to help yourself," Andrea tittered around for a second before disappearing around the boxes.

"Wh't 's g'ing 'n?" He wondered aloud. It was a small space for such a big man but he'd dealt with worse. Shrugging he made his way downstairs to get the stuff from his crate he'd seen earlier. His confusion only furthered as he saw something on the rickety sofa table the made his heart constrict. There were two photos, beautifully framed. In the small photo there was a young man. His eyes were cheery and blue, he wore a carefree smile and was smiling at the camera as if the photographer had just aid something hilarious. His hair was blond and shaggy with a distinctly ruffled look about it. The one on the right was of a beautiful woman. She was young, in her late 30's, her smile was serene and gentle. She was round and looked the woman who would make a batch of cookies to help you feel better. Her hair was blond and wavy, looking rather unkempt, her green eyes sparkled happily. The table was the only thing the entire house that didn't have books covering every available surface.

Sweden's blue/green eyes settled on a black ribbon tied into a bow that rested between them, in a small incense tray were the glowing ambers of a burnt incense stick. On the opposite wall was a portrait that made his stomach tighten. A man with a stern face and hazel eyes, behind him was a perfectly poised American flag and he wore the well-pressed uniform of a U.S. Marine. He had several decorations on his chest and a name tag with 'Cooks' engraved carefully into it.

But Sweden hadn't seen him yet, there was no way he was at home at all. There was no sign he had been here in a long time. For all intents and purposes Andrea Cooks was all alone.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Hetalia

Thanks to the reviewer who corrected my messed up Swedish. Apologies.

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To his surprise Sweden woke late in the afternoon. There was no sunlight streaming through his window to wake him and no Finland getting up to get Sealand to school. He awoke to pure silence. Slowly he blinked his vision clear, wondering why the hell he was surrounded by nothing but stacks of boxes oozing books.

_The girl and the box,_ he thought as everything came back to him. Slipping his glasses on he strained his senses, begging for even the slightest noise to give him a clue. There was nothing. He dressed quickly and made his way downstairs to find no one there. A quick search of the house told him no one was there.

_She did mention having school and work._ Sighing he checked the time on a dusty clock leaning against the bottom step.

12:32? With a swipe of his large fingers he cleared the glasses clock face. 12:33

How was that even possible, he never woke up later than 8 o'clock.

Hours later Sweden decided he was pretty lonely and rather bored. An empty house with his mysterious hostess gone with nothing to do. Well, his eyes strayed to the hundreds of books, almost nothing to do. Grabbing a random one from the stack next to the couch he flopped down and opened it up.

"Lone Survivor: Marcus Luttrell, Flipping to the first page he began to read.

# # #

WHAM WHAM WHAM!

Harsh slamming on the door kicked Sweden out of the world of missions in the War Against Terror into the book cluttered living room of Andrea Cooks.

WHAM WHAM WHAM! Adjusting his glasses and smoothing out his shirt he maneuvered past the books to open the door which was currently shaking on its hinges.

"Y's," he swung the door open only to have a fist strike his chest. It bounced off.

A short balding man stood at the doorway holding a thick packet of papers and a briefcase. His eyes were a watery blue and sweat beaded on his brow in the early summer heat.

"Ummm," his face went blank with confusion and as soon as he met Sweden's cold gaze it contorted with fear.

"D' y' need s'mth'ng?" He rumbled, instantly the man froze.

"Umm, I need to speak to Andrea Cooks, is she in?"

"N'

"When can I see her?" The man wiped his brow and took a small step away from Sweden who instantly disliked him.

"Wh' 're ya?"

"My name is Mr. Moblisey from Social Services. I was told by her father that he would have guardian for the duration of his deployment by today. I came to check up on it."

Maxing his intimidation powers to the max Sweden gestured trough the door, "C'me in an' expl'n." It was an order not a suggestion. The small man tittered in and gazed around. Pulling out a clipboard he began to make notes of everything he saw. Sweden settled him on the loveseat and took the chair opposite of him.

"Expl'n." Mr. Moblisey fiddled with his papers for a moment before speaking.

"Well, as you are probably aware Ms. Cooks father is away on military deployment and until further notice was planning on leaving her alone until he returns. Now for a child that's suffered such emotional and physical trauma that's just not allowed. Considering their unique situation they were given an extra two weeks before Ms. Cooks was removed from the care of her father to find an au pair. I'm assuming that since you opened the door you are Mr. Cooks chosen guardian for the next few months. "

_No,_ his brain thought but his mouth said, "Ya." _Sweden? What are you doing, you'll just cause some problems. You don't even know the whole situation!_

His body was on autopilot, ignoring his screaming brain and common sense the Swede began to sign several papers the little man shoved before him.

"Now Mr. Ox..t."

"Mr. B'rw'ld."

"Okay," the man began to slowly sink further away from him, "Now here are some things you need to know. These are my copies of your consent forms and here are yours. Hide them; she's torn them up before. Also, she skips her appointments with her psychologist every Wednesday so try to stop that. Her grades are fine and since you're her appointed guardian until further notice you'll be in charge. She gets," the man shuddered, "Bossy. She also tends to worry more about other people than herself. Ms. Cooks uses it as a way to distract people from herself so don't let her. "

Sweden nodded, mind reeling with information; but his face never lost it's stern façade.

"Okay then, I'll just be going. Haha," The swede just the door with a satisfied snap on the man he disliked for no apparent reason. Other than the fact he reeked of bad news and misfortune. Checking his watch he sighed.

It was 5 o'clock and still no sign of Andy, moving into the kitchen he began to prepare dinner for when she did arrive home.

# # # # # #

At 10 there was still no sign of the teenager he'd been unceremoniously been given guardianship over and he began to get nervous. Dinner was already cold and the sun had disappeared long ago.

At 11 he began to pace, unable to pay any more attention to the heart wrenching book he'd picked up earlier.

Once his little watch beeped midnight Sweden watched the front door, glaring at it. Silently he demanded Andrea walk through it any moment now.

AT 12:30 the door swung open and he lurched forward, only to stop short. Andrea ambled in through the door. She wore the mussed and dirty uniform of a Mcdonald's employee. Her hair was scraggly and eyes tired, her shoulders were slumped and her feet dragged. With great care and little energy she settled two bags by the door way and shut the door, locking it carefully. Only when she turned around did she actually see a rather irriated Sweden.

Which doesn't look much different from a normal Sweden except his intimidation meter goes off the charts. It's no wonder Andrea shrieked in a fear and fell back against the door with her hand to her chest.

"Oh…my W-w-what's w-wrong? W-why a-are you glaring," she gasped, breathing heavily and looking a little more awake.

Sweden crossed his arms and pinned the floundering American with a stern glare.

"Wh're have ya been?"

"Um, school. And then I had work. I told you yesterday."

"Ya sh'ld h've left a n'te."

"Umm…Okay."

"A m'n came b' t'day."

"Oh," Andrea sighed, "What happened?"

" I s'nged th' p'pers." There were several moments of silence while Andrea processed what he said.

"You..signed those papers?" Her jaw dropped wide open. He nodded.

"You signed the papers." She gave a little laugh and hugged herself "YOU SIGNED THE PAPERS!" Andrea gave a wild cheer and began to bounce around the cramped living room "HE SIGNED THE FUCKING PAPERS!"

"Ys, N'w shhh," he shushed the girl, still confused about her burst of cheer, "Didja eat yet?"

"Yeah, I grabbed a sanwhich so I'm going to go to bed,' Andrea picked up her bags and began to waltz toward the stairs. But then she turned around and gave Sweden a big hug around his middle (that's all she could really reach being so short) before sprinting up the stairs to her room, cackling gleefuly.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own HEtalia

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Sweden woke up on Saturday to Andrea running up and down the stairs, muttering to herself. When he poked his head out the door he saw Andy wearing football gear and a heavy bag swung from her shoulder.

"Good morning Mr. Sweden. Did you sleep well?" He paused in the middle of her frantic scrambling to give him a wide smile. She still wore the black gloves.

"F'ne, wh're ya go'ng?"

"I have a soccer game today I'll be back later in the afternoon, depending if we win or not. I left you some breakfast on the stove if you get hungry. Bye!"

Sweden blinked twice before taking the stairs two at a time to catch up, "WAIT!" Andrea whirled around, frowning ever so slightly.

"What?"

"W'it, I'll be reay 'n a m'nute."

"Why?"

"I'm c'ming."

"why would you do that?" she called at his retreating back while he left to get dressed properly. Sweden thought she would have already left but she was still waiting in the living room looking mildly irritated.

"Come on, the Coach won't be happy if I'm late." As they swept through the kitchen Sweden grabbed bagel from the bread drawer and in the backyard finally took it in. It was a large back yard with dozens of ancient trees that clung to the gently sloping hill. Beyond the line of massive wind breakers he saw large corn fields running off into the horizon.

"N'ce."

"Yeah, welcome to Farmlandia." Sweden watched as she unlocked two bikes, "The soccer fields are about twenty miles from here."

"Wh't posit'n do ya pl'y?"

"Goalie, but let's go before I'm late."

#$#$#

As it turned out Andrea had a bizarre definition of late. They had left the house so early that fog was still clinging to the cornstalks and trees. A chill wind eased past them along the long empty country roads. Random, large houses were strewn about periodically with large barns and grain silos around them. The sky was still a beautiful rosy pink with the moon still hanging near the horizon. It promised to be a beautiful day.

As they rode Sweden couldn't help but admire the beauty of a nation he'd never gotten much pleasure to see before. Large orange flowers grew along the roadside, dew drops clung to the bright petals with each blade of grass hung heavy with early morning mist. It was quiet and peaceful. Even though he could hear Andrea pedaling in front of him a gentle spider web of sleep still clung to his mind and body. A sense of ease soothed him and he felt no urge to break the silence. Every noise was muffled but echoed with resounding clarity. He didn't mind the bike was far too small for him, most bikes were anyway . On a road off to his left he saw two figures approaching and on one to his right another person on a bike was headed their way. The people turned out of be others girls, all dressed in football gear each looked wildly different. The teenagers didn't speak as they fell into line behind Sweden As they continued to ride and a largeish town manifested itlsef from the fog more people began to join the ever growing line. No one seemed to mind the silence and it seemed they wanted to keep it that way. Even as they rode through the outskirts of a small town to a large high school there was no noise.

It was all very strange to Swede who expected even a little amount of noise.

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An hour later he wished it was silent. While Andrea had acted as if the football game was very bland and seemed to worry very little crowd that had gathered that day to watch the game was astonishing for a town that size. Briefly he entertained the notion that some of the people had crawled right out of the cornfields that seemed to go on forever.

Andrea had abandoned him on the edge of the football field, all of the girls had. Hoisting gear bags onto shoulders they had jogged off looking like an underage very color full group of soldiers. Feeling slightly annoyed he took a seat on the still dewy bleachers to watch the two teams of girls warm up. Excitement buzzed over the large crowds and he was pretty sure he had seen a news van pull up about ten minutes into warm up.

Sweden knew his football team was good but wondered about the teens racing about in front of them. The opposing team wore white and red while Andy's wore blue and white. Mentally he dubbed them the _Black _and _Blue_ teams. The Blacks were cheering and shouting while kicking the balls back and forth, occasionally throwing jeers at the Blue's. Andrea's team was still silent. The fifteen odd girls which were going through the warm up routine with the precision and speed of well-oiled machine had not spoken a word.

As the crowds stood up for the National Anthem he cast an eye around. Chest swelled with pride as the slighlyt warbled rendition of the Star Spangled Banner drifted across the field. On a slightly out of place flag pole said banner snapped in the breeze.

"And now for today's game we have the St. Valentines Academy for Girls in Greater Indianapolis Black Ravens versus the George Washington High School's Lady Vikings!" Sweden allowed a tiny smile to ghost over his lips. Hundreds of years later and the Vikings were still remembered.

# # # #

The Swede figured out rather quickly why the team had not spoken. They didn't need to. Each member knew exactly what the other was thinking and moved with astonishing speed and brilliant strategy but even with the Viking's skill the Ravens were also an excellent team. Apparently the World of Girls High School Soccer was a cutthroat one.

Andrea was a brilliant goalie and even through Sweden had no real relation to her his chest swelled with pride as she blocke everything that made it's way to her goal. Nothing got through in the first half. The crowds cheered with manic glee as the game escalated from simply speed and skill to violent verocity in the second half.

Sweden fought the urge to boo along with everyone else as a Raven kicked a Viking in the thigh with her cleats, drawing blood. The Raven was instantly red-carded but the damage was done. Andrea was a silent spring, not moving unless she had to, still wearing the same black gloves, not even trading them in for the proper equipment. It was an intense game but no one had scored and there were only three minutes left on the clock.

A time out was called and after a flurry of hand movements Andrea was switched from goalie to offense. A move that made that crowds go silent, he could hear the newsman talking very quickly.

It was an intense two minutes and 34 seconds. Andrea started out with the ball, moving a quickly she passed it back and forth with two of her team mates in a dizzying and confusing dance of movement. It was painful moment when one of the Ravens finally managed to intersect it. Even from the distance Sweden could see Andrea snarl with fury before charging forward.

He wasn't quite able to follow what happened next but it looked painful...for all parties involved. As Andy recovered the ball, giving it a hefty kick with a nice spin the foot belonging to an enraged Raven slammed into the her foot sending it flying. Andy didn't even see the only goal in the game made as she was flat on her back, staring at sky struggling to regain her breath.

As the Raven's goalies fingers missed the ball by a meer hairs breath it _whooshed_ into the net just as the buzzer announced the end of the game.

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It took a long time for the crowds to call down, people had screamed with joy and sprinted onto the field. Lifting the rather dazed an injured Andrea over to the medics tent the crow pulsated around their hero. Judging from their reactions to a simple high school game Sweden thought it was a bit much, it was like they had won a World Cup.

He didn't bother trying to reach his charge until most everyone had gone home, by that time the sun was high in the sky and Andrea looked exhausted. She smiled and laughed along with everyone else, her coach and teammates even the Raven who came to apologize for kicking her. But when no one was looking except the hulking Swede who had gone completely unnoticed her small laugh lines disappeared and became worry lines. It was odd, watching her flicker between a carefree teen with no obvious worries to a mature, tired teen who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Like a stack of books whose covers were deceptively bright and cheerful despite the volume of misery that lay beneath inside the pages.

"Ya d'd w'll."

She sat up so quickly the ice pack on her ankle dropped to the grass. The medic tsked in annoyance.

"Andy, sit down and don't you dare walk on that ankle until I give you that say so." The EMT's angular face was set in a stern frown as she stared at the annoyed teenager, "Don't even think about pulling some sort of BS this time or I swear I'll tied you up for a week."

"but Angie, I've got."

"What did I tell you about BS!?" Angie put her hands on her hips, giving a mock glare.

Andrea smiled waving her hands, "Fine, fine but I'm."

"ANDREA!" The large beefy woman who Sweden recognized as the coach strode up to the back of the ambulance where the three were gathered, "GOOD GAME!"

"Thanks Coach, what's up?"

Andy's question went ignored as the large woman turned to glare at Sweden who felt, for the first time in his ancient life, a tad bit intimidated. The Coach wasn't fat but muscular with large shoulders and arms coupled with wide calloused hands, she looked like she could go 14 rounds with Denmark and Russia without breaking a sweat.

"Who is he?"

"He's my temporary guardian until my dad comes back. Mr. Berwald meet Coach V, Coach V, meet Mr. Berwald."

"Hmmmph," Coach V gripped his hand in a bone crushing hold and looked mildly pleased when Sweden returned with just as much force, "Where are you from?"

"Sw'den."

"Nice place, I've been there before. What are you doing all the way in Indiana USA?" Cold gray eyes bored into his blue and the Swede was at a lose for words.

"Coach, go easy on him. I'll be leaving soon, is there anything you wanted?" Andrea looked annoyed at being left from the conversation for even a few seconds.

Interesting.

"Yes," Coach V leveled her a stern glare at Andrea, "I'm wondering if you wanted a ride back to your place. I've got my truck here."

The teen gave a pleasant smile, "No thanks Coach I'm"

"We'll t'ke tha r'de." Sweden quickly interrupted Andrea whose eyebrows shot together in the first glare he'd seen on her face. It was clear only the Coach had expected this because she gave direction to her car before Andre could protest. Even after V had left Sweden felt a begrudging iota of respect. She had waited until an authority figure had appeared so Andrea could not argue with him or her. Clever.

# # #

"I said I didn't need a ride, I don't need a ride, why won't you listen?" Sweden had just lifted her bike into the back of a beat up pick-up truck while Andrea leaned heavily against the side, favoring her left ankle.

"Bec'se I sa'd so." He found it astonishing the sheer amount of pride the teen harbored. He tossed his bike in and then the gear bag before very nearly lifting the girl into the cab of the truck despite her protests that she was fine.

"I like him." Coach V announced as they bounced along the road which didn't seem nearly as smooth as peaceful as they had that morning, "Finally someone you can't steam roll over." Sweden allowed himself a small smile at Andrea's annoyed grunt.

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Not sure what this chapter was but leave a review and tell me what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own hetalia

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As Sweden soon discovered Andrea was not the type to take orders lightly. She was up and about, walking around on her bad foot within two days. She ignored him when he corrected her foolhardy actions. The only thing she would let him do was wrap it tightly each morning. By Wednesday her foot was fine.

"Alright," Sweden watched as she marched around the kitchen staring at a clipboard, "Three cakes are needed for the Melding family reunion, not to mention pies for the church Fall Festival," muttering under her breath she continued pacing before turning to Sweden.

"I need to go to the store."

"Do ya even h've a c'r?"

"Yes ," With an out of character smirk Andrea gentured for Sweden to follow. Curious he did so out to the garage which he had not bothered to inspect, "We only use it for emergencies, the other car is in Arkansas but this one runs like a top despite her age." With a smirk Andrea punched the code for the door to rise. It did so and dramatically revealed a beautiful, black WW II German staff car. Sweden gasped at the sight, he hadn't seen one of those in decades. "It's not modern but my families had it for a while so we take good care of it."

"It's be'tiful." He stepped forward and ran a hand lovingly along the frame.

"We called her Verra, we took off all that nasty Nazi stuff when we brought it home but let's get going." Andrea fished a silver key out of her pocket and tossed it Sweden's directions, "Let's go, Save-A-Lot is on Main street."

#$#$#$#$#$#

Sweden was very aware of the stares from other drivers but couldn't care less. Verra ran beautifully, even if the car had been made of 75 years ago it looked better and had more fuel efficiently due to the decades of tinkering by the cooks family.

"H'w m'ny c'kes da ya h've ta make?" Sweden asked as he pushed the ever heavy cart before him.

"Five cakes, three pies and 320 cookies," she answered without of second beat.

Sweden shook his head in resignation as she grabbed a second cart.

"F'r wh't?"

"People commission me to make these things for parties or such. Sometimes just because they need something sweet. I don't charge much but enough to help with supplies." Andrea pushed both cart to the check out line and Sweden took note that her gloves remained firmly on her hands.

"Gonna buy the whole place," a massive teenager was manning the check out line. He was tall and brawny, looking like he could go three rounds with Russia without breaking a sweat. "Geez Andy." The boy didn't give Sweden a second glance.

"Maybe Cupcake but it's all for a good cause." Andy said, smiling in her usual sweet manner.

"Hey Andy, you know my birthday's coming up right?" Cupcake's hand moved with blurred motion that impressed the tall nation.

"If you're a good boy I'll make your normal present." Sweden decided not to faint at the price. It was quite a lot but nowhere near as bad as if they had gone somewhere else.

"Did you bring Verra?"

"Of course," Andrea didn't even blink an eye at the price, from a satchel hanging from her shoulder she pulled the apporite bills.

"Good job with the game last week, I heard you guys kicked some serious butt." Andrea gave modest shrug while Sweden observed quietly while repacking the bags.

"Thank Cupcake, but don't try to butter me up for more sweets," The teenagers gave a hearty laugh as the money changed hands again.

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

"Yes I can."

#$#$#$#$#$#$#

"Andy, go ta b'd," Sweden stared in from the doorway as the American labored under the weight of her baking load. It was now midnight and she had been on her feet since 6 that morning.

"I still have to much work to do. There are people counting on me and I can't let them down." Andrea measured out several cups of flour as eight different batters for cookies. Sweden gave a small growl before moving around the table to push the stubborn teen toward the staircase and past the books.

"B'd Andy," He rumbled pushing her toward the door. Andrea didn't have prayer in fighting against him but made her displeasure clear with grumbling and growling.

Once Sweden was sure she was upstairs and in bed he turned to the batter and sighed, it was going to be a very long night.

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Halfway through icing the lst cake at four in the morning a heartbreaking and desperate scream shattered the calm of the witching hour. Sweden was up the stairs and wrenching Andrea's door open before he even registered the movement.

"ANDREA!" He barked in her room only to see her short form srwestling with blankets. Her eyes were wide and blank, unseeing in the dimness of the night and blinded by the horrors she had seen in her mind.

The teen's body shuddered with adrenalin and as Sweden approached she flinched, pulling away with jerky movements.

"Go away!" She rasped wrapping her tighter in the blankets, "I don't need help." Her body shivered and every moment her fingers would jerk as if tapping out the notes to a piece of music. That's when Sweden noticed she no long wore her black gloves. Those rested on a stack of books near her bed. It was now he saw the purpose for the gloves. Shriveled red skin stretched over her hands, laced with ugly white scars that raced up her arms and disappeared into her sleeves. Sweden finally saw Andrea without her make up. Red dotted her skin as if it had been melted together in a horrendous accident. Overall the effect was rather grotesque and he knew why she wore so many clothes.  
"Get out of my room!" The teen rasped again and Sweden understood why she spoke so softly, "Get out!" Andrea huddled into her stack of pillows, still trying to minimize what he saw.

She looked pathetic.

With one knee on the bed the former Viking swept her into his arms. She did not go quietly, instead she thrashed about and kicked at him, screaming despite her obviously damaged throat. But Sweden knew she would tire herself out eventually. Andrea continued to cry and toss about. Tears oozed from beneath tightly clenched eyelids, her limbs trembled as she finally exhausted herself. Limp in Sweden's arm her body shuddered one last time before going still completely.

Then, like a soft rainstorm turning into a gale the tears leaking from her eyes began to run and she bawled like a baby. Andrea latched onto Sweden's neck and sobbed into his shoulder, unable to contain herself any longer. Kneeling on her bed Berwald held the child close as she expunged months of festering emotions in a manner he hadn't seen since World War Two. Snot dripped from her nose as spittle dribbled from her mouth but he paid it no mind. Eventually from her violent crying she began to hiccup. Each hiccup shook her body violently and she sobbed harder.

Berwald himself began to cry, tears slipped from beneath his own glasses as he held her to his chest. He tightened his grip on her shoulders and tried to convey as much support and love he could offer without having to say anything. Words would ruin the moment.

#$#$#$

Sorry for the angst but my Grandmother died two days ago and I'm using this to help me cope.


End file.
